


Rogue's Path

by Haaska



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Usage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haaska/pseuds/Haaska
Summary: Rogue was sent back from the front.And everything was just the same, and yet so, so different.





	1. Chapter 1

Nothing had changed.

All the dirty alleys and rusted buildings looked as unwelcoming as always. The poor and the homeless wandered the street aimlessly, their skin damaged from the sun and dehydration. The guards, looking proud in their clean uniforms, preferred looking the other way rather than react to any crime. It seemed the time has stopped in this wonderful city. Everything was just as dirty, grey and corrupted as the day he left.

Home. Finally.

He hadn’t told anyone about his return. He’d never been a big fan of celebrations focused on his person. Or celebrations in general.

Besides, it’s not like he had a family here. He knew some people, sure. Lots of them. And he surely was going to rekindle the old friendships. In time.

But for now, he had to go to his old place, gather strength, plan his next step.

And heal that damn knee, he thought and let out a muffled whimper as a sudden jolt of pain shot through his leg, paralyzing it and almost making him fall on his face just as he stepped off the train platform. What a view that would have been. He looked ridiculous anyway, with a crutch in one hand and a military backpack in the other. He could see looks of pity people were giving him as he went.

He was even more glad that no familiar face could witness his struggle. Or so he hoped.

Not waiting for more reasons not to stand there and draw attention, Rogue shrugged his service backpack on with a wince and headed for the slums. A journey he was sure would take much less time if he wasn’t limping like a one-legged ostrich.

The reason he was limping was simple - a single shot in the knee with a nail gun along with following-up medical complications had damaged one of the nerves, limiting the mobility of his left leg. The injury was planned. The complications and long-term consequences, not so much.

“Acute, grave illness or injury, or other deterioration of the soldier's physical and/or mental condition occurred while performing military related duties which rendered the soldier unfit for further duty.” All according to the plan. The knee would heal completely in a few months and Rogue would be able to walk normally again. For now, however, even something as simple as standing straight presented a challenge.

If it hadn’t been for a small bag of serum that somehow found its way to the doctor’s desk, he would have been sent back to the front as cannon fodder. Letting him die in the sand must had been lighter on Abundance’s pocket than paying for a train ticket back to the city. Fortunately, Rogue had connections, serum and guts to bribe the doctor and return to his corrupted hometown as soon as he was healed enough to survive the journey.

He even got a shiny medal for his his service. Another one, that is. He threw it in the sand, just like the rest. The only reminder he brought with him was a repeating nightmare that had been waking him up with his own screams every few nights.

That, and tons of sensitive information about many high-ranked, respected figures. Much more blackmail material he would be ever able to put in use.

Wincing in pain, Rogue stopped and leaned on a nearby wall for support. The pain and exhaustion have made him dizzy and he was still pretty far away from the Slums. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and when he rubbed his face, he discovered a smudge of blood covering his fingers.

He swore under his breath and wiped the blood on his military pants. He needed a few minutes to catch breath or else the simple nosebleed wouldn’t be the only warning sign his body would drop on him.

A sudden noise caused him to look up. It sounded like someone was running from around the corner just a few meters away. The steps were light and fast, resembling those of a child.

Not even five seconds passed and the child appeared, running directly at him. At a dangerously high speed, too. Rogue swore under his breath and pressed himself tight to the wall, hoping that the small pest won’t run into him.

Fortunately the boy stopped half a second before hitting the man and immediately took three steps back, just beyond his reach. Rogue let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and swore loudly. To think that not long ago he had single handedly taken down a few Aurora troops that cornered him at the front line. And he only had a knife.

Now, even a small child was a threat to him. How old was that boy anyway? He was never good with guessing kids’ ages He could be either 6 or 10. Not that it really mattered.

The man wiped off blood from under his nose again. It truly hadn’t been his proudest moment.

“Are you dying?” - the child asked and Rogue shot him a quick look.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.” Nothing but curiosity in his voice. The man shot him one last glance and lost interest, having much more important things on his mind. Not collapsing so close to the Slums, for instance.

Cold, metal wall cooling Rogue’s back was a nice distraction from the pain. He decided he should focus on that and calm his breathing before moving on. Tune out everything else. The man closed his eyes and cleared his mind, slowly counting from 100 down.

He had barely reached 80 when he heard a cough. Rogue sighed and looked at the child, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

“Are you still here? Don’t you have other places to be?”

“Not really.” The boy have fished something out of his pocket. A sweet bun. It looked dry and a bit dirty, but it didn't seem to be a problem for the young boy. Neither was a company of a bleeding, hurt man, apparently. He took a big bite, not breaking eye contact with Rogue even for a second.

The man was watching with fascination as the boy devoured the sweet bun in three big, happy bites. After he finished, he patted the front of his raggy shirt as if to shake off the dust and crumbs. Such manners.

“You have a crumb on your face.”

“No, I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” Rogue agreed. He looked at the boy expectantly, in hope to either scare him away or… well, he only hoped to scare him away. It didn’t seem to work though. Rogue took a deep breath and continued the stare contest he didn’t even know he was a part of.

A few years on the front made him immune to many things. The sight of blood, life leaving someone’s eyes, the stench of corpses decaying in the sun, he knew these before he even enlisted to the army.

The screams of Aurora kids, pierced to the sand with long industrial nails were new. So was the sight of technomancers fighting for life. And a long trail of charred bodies around them, quietly convulsing in the sand, their muscles clenched and their tongues bitten off. It was the front where he saw more flora than he did during his whole life. Thorny bushes were doing quite well, absorbing blood from corpses before they dried out in the sun. Skeletons covered with paper-thin skin were hanging from the branches, empty skulls lying under them like manta eggs in a nest. All of it was new, but he got used to it at some point. He knew he would.

Ironically, as much as Rogue’s insensitivity to brutality had risen, he had forgotten how to handle naivety and innocence, so visible in kid’s face. Had he been born on the Aurora side of the conflict, the kid would have been introduced to the military lifestyle in a few years and who knows, maybe he would even reach his twenties before getting a nail to the skull. Just like all the kids they had to kill during his duty.

But it wasn’t Aurora, and the kid was right in front on him, dressed in rags instead of a tiny uniform. He was still more pure and innocent than most of the kids he had seen, even though he was obviously Rogue. The man wondered if any gang already kept an eye on him.

“Look, kid. I’m not dying anytime soon, so you can stop circling around like a mole pup.”

“Hey, I’m not.” Boy’s hurt voice implied that he indeed was waiting to loot his corpse. “I’m bored.”

“Is that so.” The man squinted his eyes and looked away thoughtfully. After a few seconds he clicked his tongue and returned his attention to the child. “Do you have a place to sleep?”

The boy knit his eyebrows together and looked down, as if he was thinking about something very hard.

“Not today.”

“I’ll tell you what. You help me carry this bag and I’ll let you sleep at my place.” He raised one finger as if to emphasize the next sentence. ”But only for today.” A little pause and he waved his hand dismissively. ”And you can keep the serum you just stole from me.”

Boy’s eyes widened and he took a small step back. Rogue sneered and shook his head.

“You might be good, kid, but I’m better. Now, catch.” He slid the backpack off and threw it to the kid who caught it last second before it hit the ground.

“It’s heavy.” The child complained but did as he was told.

The backpack was almost as big as him. It looked ridiculous. Rogue snickered and pried himself from the wall. Time to move.

There was a big chance that the boy would take the bag and bolt, which was exactly the reason why he gave it to him. It was filled with his service stuff. He would throw it away anyway, but it was a good way to test if the kid was smart enough to listen to instructions if following them might return a profit.

Besides, the bag was heavy, his knee hurt, his body was handling the injury rather badly and the boy, however small, looked strong enough to carry the load. And who knows, Rogue might even find a use for him. And that was the only true reason of his actions. He surely hadn't been touched, Rogue decided, looking at the lanky kid’s innocent eyes.

“What’s your name, kid?

“Ezrah.”

Rogue nodded and ruffled his hair, ignoring a resentful growl.

“Anton. Pleasure to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to erase half of the fic because I forgot that Anton wasn’t drafted, but enlisted in the army. Thanks guys! :,D  
> However, I decided to keep a few changes.  
> One of them is:  
> Anton decided not to fake an injury - I believe that many before him tried to do that and failed, and Anton wasn't a Vory leader back then. According to the bartender, it took him almost five years to "snake and charm and stab his way to the top" after he came back from the front. So I'm guessing that he was just another nobody who could've been checked by the field doctor.  
> Or maybe not. I love you Anton, but in my fic, you get shot in the knee.  
> I want to thank stunt_pilots for beta-reading and correcting my mistakes. And oh boy, there was a lot of them.  
> Also I want to thank Modlisznik - for reminding me that Anton had it all planned all along, and Salmaka - for providing screenshots and more valuable data.  
> As always, hugs and kisses for our discord group. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton is doing a great job at being a dad.

Anton had a fever. 

The boy disappeared at night and Anton doubted he'd ever see him again. He wondered if he had stolen anything valuable and got scared of getting caught.

It wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

And now, Anton was alone, and his body decided that it was a perfect time to teach him a lesson. His leg was fine, or so he thought, but he was exhausted beyond imagination. And the fever wasn’t making it any easier. 

He took a ragged breath and covered his face with his forearm to block the light.

When he came back to the Slums yesterday and found his cabin completely intact, a whistle almost escaped his lips. Hunger could be more powerful than fear, and even if his reputation in the area was, according to his exceptionally eloquent sources, “rather bad, but in a good way”, he wasn’t sure whether it would keep the looters away.

And even though he had given someone the spare set of keys, he highly doubted that the man would move his ass all the way to the Slums to check up on the cabin during Anton’s absence.

Either that, or Rogue’s reputation was truly spreading. 

Apparently two nice surprises were enough to test his luck (one of them being still alive, back in Ophir), so of course something had to go to shit. 

So now he was lying on his bunk, shivering and sweating and wishing that the damn bottle of water was closer. If the kid were here, he would at least fetch it for him.

Anton refused to admit that he was bitter about Ezrah’s disappearance. But he would be lying if he said that it didn't stung. He was a good judge of character, and yet he was wrong about a  _ child. _

At first, Ezrah wasn’t too difficult to crack. All it took to make him cooperate was a pack of bland military rations, a bottle of juice and a few nice words to make him feel safe and comfortable. And it worked, just as Anton predicted. While Ezrah had been chewing on a dry biscuit, Anton had checked the drawers, trying to find any clothes that didn’t carry military emblems. And maybe something for the kid, too, he thought, glancing at the piece of rag Ezrah was wearing. 

The second task was easier than he expected. He still had some old clothes from years before he left for the front, and since he enlisted young, some of the shirts were similar size as the kid’s. Surprisingly enough, his own wardrobe was much more limited. He wasn’t buying much when he had been on a military passes, so he was stuck with a few plain shirts, one pair of pants and two sets of disturbingly clean clothes that were certainly not his.

As much as he disliked it, he had to go shopping soon.

Once both him and Ezrah had changed, Anton started his little interrogation.

It was challenging to communicate with the kid sometimes. It was visible that Ezrah was trying to keep some informations to himself, which had been a smart move, especially for a Rogue child. But he was still a kid, and Anton was more than good at reading between the lines, so he learned a few things anyway.

The boy had no family nor a home.

He refused to say what had happened to his parents and Anton dropped the topic. They were surely dead. 

There was one woman near south market who would leave her door open for the kid from time to time.

She wasn't feeding him or taking care of him. Ezrah had simply been sleeping on the floor near the entrance like a domesticated hound. After all, both resources and kindness were limited in the Slums.

Most of the time, however, her drunken husband had been scaring him away, and it sounded like him and Ezrah were not great friends.

So he had learned how to hide and sleep between the pipes, although where, he refused to say. He also wouldn’t reveal where he was getting food and water from, which probably meant that he was stealing it from the market. 

The kid was sharp. He would always wait two seconds before giving an answer, as if he was thinking about how little he could say without revealing that he was trying to hide something. So Anton let him play this game, curious how long he could go on.

Pretty long, as it turned out. He tried to derail the conversation to a completely different topic a few times. Rogue naturally ignored his efforts, so Ezrah absorbed the man’s tactic and started answering questions with his own questions. His mind was flexible, and even though Anton had almost no experience with children, he was probably sharper than most kids his age.

Of course he only needed to know all of this to figure out if Ezrah could become a valuable asset with time. He was young, but he knew where and  _ how _ to hide when needed, and he wasn’t pushing his luck. He could think fast and handle pressure pretty well. With no one close to him, earning his trust would be possibly easier, and surely more lucrative. 

And Anton knew that, in a few years, he would need a loyal subordinate. Someone ready to sacrifice everything for someone he considered family.

_ All this research and look how it worked out for you _ , Anton thought to himself and rolled to his side with a frustrated groan. He was thirsty and sleepy, but since standing up was not an option in his current state, he decided to give up and sleep

He was starting to doze off when he heard a noise. Someone was trying to open the door.

Anton opened his eyes and saw Ezrah.

He closed the door, struggling with the door knob a bit. The grunts the boy had been making would probably sound hilarious if Anton wasn’t so focused on not dying. The kid finally locked the door and walked to the middle of the room, panting.

“I’m back.”   
“You don’t say.” Anton tried to sit up, but dizziness in his head made him change his mind. “Give me some water, kid.” 

Ezrah hopped to the counter top, humming a cheerful melody. With a bottle in his hand, he walked to the man and reached out, but not enough for Anton to grab the bottle.

“Do you have more fruit juice?”

Great. Feed the kid once and he won’t stop asking for more food. “All I needed this afternoon is extortion.” Rogue rolled his eyes and sighed. “In my desk. Now give me the water.” After he downed almost all of it, he covered his eyes with a palm of his shaking hand, feeling a headache closing in.

There was a creak of desk doors and a clatter of many bottles stashed inside.

“Where have you been?” Rogue murmured, trying to sound uninterested. He had to avoid triggering boy’s defence mechanisms - he was too tired to play word games now.

“I was playing at the market.” A loud *pop* that echoed through the room was not a sound supposed to be made by a juice bottle. 

Anton opened his eyes and sat up quickly, looking at the bottle Ezrah was holding in his hands. It had a purple, round fruit on the label. A plum.

“Wait, wrong bottle. Put that one back”

The kid ignored the order and took three big gulps before Rogue managed to stand up and pry the bottle from kid’s hands. Anton looked at him, horrified.

Ezrah coughed and made a disgusted face. 

“This juice is rotten.” 

Seeing that Ezrah was fine, Anton let out a breath and put the bottle on the top shelf. After a short consideration, he decided to put all booze where kid’s hands couldn’t reach. “It’s not rotten. It’s fermented. One day you will learn the difference.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“You are not wrong.” Since he was already standing up, Anton seized that opportunity to go to the small kitchen and grate some acrifolia roots to mix them with water. Anything to ease the incoming headache.

He came back after a while, just in time to see the kid making his way to the bed. The only bed in the cabin, not counting the small couch. 

“May I ask what are you doing, kid?”

“I’m tired. My head feels weird.”

“Fucking great. You are drunk, aren’t you.”

Anton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Guess you will have to learn early how to puke your guts out.”Anton grabbed kid’s arm for support and headed for the door. Ezrah wanted to complain, but a sharp “shut up” silenced him effectively. 

They came back not much later, both of them pale and worn-out, although both for different reasons. Anton let the kid go and pushed him slightly towards the couch.

“Alright. Go sleep there.”

It was pointless though. Ezrah redirected his steps to the bed like he was being pulled in by a magnet and dropped on the mattress face-down with his arms spread comically wide.

“I can’t fucking believe it.” Rogue murmured to himself and pulled the sweaty blanket from under the boy. He took a fresh one from one of the drawers and threw it over the kid.

Anton’s eyes turned to the couch, and then back to Ezrah. The couch was small and uncomfortable, but there was no way he was sleeping with this kid in one bed. As small as he was, Ezrah was taking most of free space. And he was snoring very loudly, as it turned out last night. The fact that no one had found him sleeping between the pipes was more than unreal.

Couch it was.

He looked at dirty tuft of hair, the only part of the kid visible from under the blanket and sighed. Not even sure why he was doing that, Rogue entered the kitchen and prepared another bottle of water with painkiller roots. He put it next to the bed and just then headed to the couch. 

Exhaustion took over him quickly, so not even a few minutes passed and he found himself dozing off again.

What an exciting life he was leading, the thought half-asleep. Barely in his twenties and already with a kid, limping like an old man, going to bed early in the evening. And to think that he wanted to take over a gang. 

Before he fell asleep completely he came to a conclusion.

He couldn’t take care of the kid. He had to find him a new home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank [stunt_pilots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunt_pilots/pseuds/stunt_pilots) for beta-reading and being super patient. 
> 
> And hugs for discord folks!
> 
> *Ezrah is a collective OC made by our Discord group.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to erase half of the fic because I forgot that Anton wasn’t drafted, but enlisted in the army. Thanks guys! :,D   
> However, I decided to keep a few changes.   
> One of them is:   
> Anton decided not to fake an injury - I believe that many before him tried to do that and failed, and Anton wasn't a Vory leader back then. According to the bartender, it took him almost five years to "snake and charm and stab his way to the top" after he came back from the front. So I'm guessing that he was just another nobody who could've been checked by the field doctor.   
> Or maybe not. I love you Anton, but in my fic, you get shot in the knee.   
> I want to thank stunt_pilots for beta-reading and correcting my mistakes. And oh boy, there was a lot of them.   
> Also I want to thank Modlisznik - for reminding me that Anton had it all planned all along, and Salmaka - for providing screenshots and more valuable data.   
> As always, hugs and kisses for our discord group. <3


End file.
